Twitter Updates

Or an intern. YES. I need an intern to help write stuff. You should see my email inbox. I just sit and watch the number click up, up, up with all these things I'm supposed to write about for Queerty. Gay movies, gay marriage, free underwear, I'm exhausted. This one's oppressed, that one's upset, Madonna is doing this or that. So-and-so wants a link, but their grammar is third grade, so no. I can't cover everything I need to do. Too much to write about.

Our other editor is in Canada, and he seems to be a well-organized fellow. I don't know how he does it. Maybe Canadians are an orderly bunch.

It took AG a month to call me again. After that first time in his dorm, he dropped me off at home, took my number, and then called me so I had his in my phone; and then he left. I didn't think I'd ever hear from him again.

When he did call, at first I didn't remember who "Austin Guy" was.

"Hello?"

"What are you doing?"

Ah yes. That voice. WHOOSH goes the adrenalin. "I'm at a party. What are you doing?"

"I don't know...you know, maybe if you wanted to get together later..."

"For what?"

"You know..."

"What?"

"Shut up."

"Why?"

(sigh) "Don't make me say it."

"Say what?"

"Do you want me to come over or not?"

"If you want to."

"Okay."

"What time?"

"I can leave in a few minutes, let me finish this game."

I was in my car two minutes later.

~~~

What does one do while you wait for AG to come over? Watch TV, I guess. But what to have on the TV when he walks in? ESPN? I don't know. Nothing too gay. We have to set the mood, make him feel comfortable. Although it took him a while to show up. So I had started flipping channels, when...knock knock knock. I leaped to the door. But I opened it really cool.

This is a post I wrote for Queerty. That job is big fun, btw. I have nothing in common with the other editors, so it works out well.

Anyyway--the important things:

~~~

In honor of gay indie film hit Small Town Gay Bar, which recently held showings at SXSW and Sundance, we at Queerty are announcing our first ever (and probably last) Big Gay Road Trip Across America--and we could stop at your town!

In the first weeks of April, our staff will drive from Texas to South Florida, and we'll stop all through the Deep South along the way, to engage in naughty shenanigans, meet the locals, and highlight the best stuff we find. All our stops will be published here, for the tensfewone or two zillions of readers who visit the pages of the award-winning Queerty. And when we visit, we could:

• Bartend for a night in your bar

• Visit the best tourist sites with you

• Come over for dinner and just drink all night (how much fun would that be?!)

Do you have the best Small Town Gay Bar where you live? Or better yet, do you have the worst? If you'd like your bar and your town to be highlighted on the trip, email dan@queerty.com.

The first night I met AG we ended up in his dorm room. I didn't have my car with me that night, so he said he'd take me home; but he never asked me for directions. He just started driving, toward campus. En route he called his roommate. "Dude, I need the room." That takes care of that.

We pulled up to his dorm building, and walked across the parking lot. AG caught sight of some students standing outside, smoking; he edged himself a little bit away from me, in case the sight of two guys walking too close to each other looked gay. Of course they didn't give us a second look. But when we walked through the front door, we had a long walk down the hallway, and I thought Some girl is going to come out of her room and recognize me, and this whole thing is going to be over. But we made it. Locked the door behind us. Click.

Standing in the middle of his room, he moved some books off his twin-size bed, while I looked at the random band posters on his wall, his computer screen with itunes loaded, his clothes everywhere. And then he stood up, and we just stood there together, quiet. And he looked at me. "So, what's up?" And he slapped his hands on his thighs. Nervous.

I just repeated what he said...."What's up?"

"Is this alright?"

"Yeah."

"My roommate should be gone for a while."

"That's fine."

...he looked around the room quickly. His eyes were really, really open. And then he looked back at me. "So what do you want me to do?"

I'm going to write this story in installments, over several days. It's too long to do all at once, and Queerty is wearing me out anyway. But it's a good story. So play along.

~~

There is this phone number I have saved under the name "Austin Guy." The guy it belongs to, I've known for several months; but I could never remember his name, and at this point it's been too long to ask him again. I tried calling his phone to hear voice mail, but all he says is "Hey, it's me, leave a message" or something inocuous of the sort. So his identity remains a mystery. It doesn't matter.

I do know he's a student, because sometimes he has to run off to class. And I know he drives a black truck, which he parks in my driveway.

One place to live for soon-to-be-transplanted blogger, who is headed for South Florida region. Miami-specific. Said blogger is fun, gregarious, and gay; has nary a pet and very little in the way of material possessions, other than assortment of old t-shirts too volumnious to be practical. Blogger is trying very hard to create a new profession entirely different from anything he's done before, and will be partaking in a new career endeavor while in the South Florida, Miami-specific area. Timeframe unknown; assignment will last at least several months, perhaps long term.

Blogger is very poor, very very poor, so all arrangements should be on the low-cost end of the financial spectrum.

All suggestions can be emailed to dan@queerty.com. Thank you for your consideration.

Today at South By Southwest I worked the door of the Jane Magazine party. I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into; at first, I just checked off names from a RSVP list, smiled at pretty women, and had quippy intelligent chats with passers-by. Jane Magazine: it's the thinking girls' read, you know.

Cut to four hours into the event, with the line stretched down the block. Everyone wanted to be at that party. People waited in line for over an hour to get in; the bands and the DJs and such were really good, people in line were freaking out about missing who they had come to see, whoever they were. But you put a gate up and suddenly everyone wants to walk through it no matter what's back there. Except the people who tried to cut, to which I actually said the "No cuts no buts no coconuts" thing. And then wondered why I would say something so stupid out loud.

The time: A few days ago.
The place: Flamers cheerleading practice, Austin, Texas.
Who: A large, somewhat-heavy cheerleader named "Papi." A.K.A., me.

While completing a rather impressive round-off/back-handspring combination, it seems I misjudged the position of the mat by just a few inches, and jammed my toes into the ground when I attempted to stick my landing. POP goes the metatarsal. So now I'm limping around with a swollen foot. And instead of all the cool jumps and butt-shaking moves, it's now my job to carry the signs. I'm on the fast-track to loserville.

Should any of you out there come to the South By Southwest Roller Derby match, Thursday at the Austin Convention Center (skating against the Los Angeles Derby Dolls), may I suggest learning a few of our cheers, penned by yours truly, and my fellow cheerleaders, Chi Chi and Mariposa:

1) U-G-L-Y
You ain't got no alibi
You ugly
Hey, hey
You ugly

(...two, three, four...)

L-A-go-away
You ain't got no game to play
You ugly
Hey, hey
You ugly

2) ATX
You're so hot
Let me see your right foot drop
BOOM
shake it out, shake it out (you do a little shimmy when you say this line)
BOOM BOOM
Shake it out, shake it out
ATX
You're so hot
Let me see your left foot drop
BOOM
Shake it out, shake it out
BOOM BOOM
Shake it out, shake it out
ATX
You're so hot
Let me see your BOO-TAY drop
BOOM
Shake it out, shake it out
BOOM BOOM
Shake it out, shake it out

Should you have any other cheers, feel free to write them in the comments and we will utilize them in our match. Thank you for your assistance.

When I started writing this thing I was just really bored one night, at 3 in the morning. I read RuPaul's weblog once, I read Bradford's weblog a few times, and I looked at the pictures on Matty's site. And I figured, hell, I can do this too. I talk about myself constantly, why not put it in print for all to enjoy?

I just wrote about whatever I was doing. Hence, the title "How Was Your Day, Dan?" One of my first posts was about New Year's Eve, which was a fun night. And a friend of mine and I would compare weblog stats at the end of each day; the first time I got 30 hits in one day, I thought I was a star. He only got 16 that day. Ha ha. I totally rubbed it in his face. But I knew I could write about whatever I wanted, including hot slutty guys, because no one was really reading it.

Then one day, amazingly enough, I got bored with myself. So I started talking about the stuff around me, mainly the excessive amounts of television I watch every day. I know it's not cool to watch TV, but I love it. I don't have that music gene; I own 8 CDs, they're all in my car, and they were all gifts. And I think ten bucks for a movie is too expensive since most of them are total crap, and I definitely don't have the money to go see theater or buy art or whatever. So I quote America's Next Top Model in everyday conversation. It's important stuff.